


Getting Over It

by saschsquatch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 00:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saschsquatch/pseuds/saschsquatch
Summary: With Dean gone, the bunker feels empty and cold to Sam, not like the home it used to be. Dean is a demon now, not himself, so why is Sam even thinking about him anymore? Shouldn’t he find a cure or finally come to terms with the fact that maybe this time Dean won’t be back, that he’s gone for good? Castiel can see that it isn’t easy for Sam to let go, so he decides that it’s time for them to have a break from hunting and take a holiday. It’s time to get over it.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam had slowly begun to see the bunker as his home, or at least as a secure base Dean and him could return to after a hunt, get some time to relax and calm down in their own comfortable four walls. The warmth he had felt towards the bunker had faded ever since Dean had left. Now it was nothing more than a cold, lonely underground building with an eerie aura, making Sam too aware of the fact that it only functioned due to intricate engineering and magic. It gave the bunker a feeling of being somewhat alive, but that didn’t make it any more welcome. It was hostile and cold place, and Sam was trapped within it, having nowhere to go and even if he did, he had no energy to leave.

Sam’s feelings did nothing but confuse him as he walked aimlessly through the bunker that should be his home, but felt nothing like it. His fingers were loosely folded around the neck of the bottle of whisky he had almost emptied, there as a reminder that the last thing he wanted to do was think about Dean. 

Not that the thoughts ever stayed away for long, no matter how drunk Sam got. Was Dean even his brother anymore, given that he died and came back as a demon? He wasn’t human. He didn’t see Sam as his brother, had said so explicitly before he had left and he might as well could have killed Sam right there. It would have hurt less. He didn’t care about Sam or his feelings or whatever they had been through since the night Dean showed up at his college apartment to tell him that Dad went missing. As if everything they had done for each other meant nothing.

Sam’s lungs and rib cage felt like a layer of old ice was wrapped tightly around them, making it near impossible to breathe but at the same time numbing his senses to the point of indifference. He felt nothing at all, unable to explain why nothing was such a hard feeling, why it hurt so much. His head was dizzy from the whisky, but all it did was making Sam’s body feel even more empty, as if it didn’t belong to him anymore.

Sam’s feet hurt and the blood in his head pounded against his skull in the rhythm of his heartbeat, slow and unsteady just as his walking pace as he roamed through the corridors of the bunker. This place was too big for one person, too empty, too lonely. And Sam knew exactly where he was headed, every sense telling him to turn around and go to bed.

The light flickered when Sam pushed the switch, entering the bunker’s empty dungeon. It wasn’t exactly a dungeon like one would expect from a medieval fantasy novel, no tortured prisoners who were chained to the wall, wrapped in the tattered remains of their clothes. No, it was just a big, empty room that smelled of dead air and residual sulphur. It was here where Sam had seen his brother last, tied to a chair by the wall before he managed to escape once Sam realised that he could do nothing to save him. That maybe he couldn’t cure the demon inside him, that this demon was who Dean had thoroughly become. The parts of his brother that were left were impossible to separate from the twisted version his soul had become due to the Mark of Cain. Dean wasn’t Sam’s brother anymore; he had made that more than clear.

Sam raised the bottle to his lips and pressed his eyes shut, trying to breathe as the room began to spin around him while he emptied the rest of the whisky. The urge to curl his giant body into a tiny ball of misery ran through him, strong enough to bring back the sting in his eyes that he tried so hard to stifle with alcohol and indifference. The ice in his chest and throat made it hard to concentrate on anything but the numbing pain, bringing him close to tears. Sam didn’t let himself cry and denying himself that small bit of relief only made the pent up rage bubble up in his stomach, melt the cold away until there was only angry heat inside him. Impulsively he threw the bottle at the stone wall with a shout, hearing it shatter into hundreds of tiny glass pieces. Sam tried his hardest to resist the urge to reach for one of the shards and slam it into his own wrist, so he sunk down to his knees, sobbing quietly when the tears escaped his closed eyelids.

Why was he even still trying to find a solution, a cure to Dean’s condition? Sam’s brother was gone. “Get over it,” the demon had taunted him with the voice that belonged to Dean, that Sam had heard a thousand times, but somehow didn’t sound right. He had made it clear that he didn’t want to be human or to be saved, that he just wanted his peace away from Sam and hunting and the life they had made together. Sam’s brother wasn’t inside him anymore, that was something else. So why did Sam spend his nights in the library looking for a cure, knowing that Dean didn’t want it? He knew how it was to be saved against his will, how it had felt when Dean sold his soul in exchange for Sam’s life. He couldn’t do that to Dean, selfishly break his consent on something so important, and yet he was still desperately searching for solutions, just in case. Sam was truly, utterly lost.

“Sam?” he suddenly heard a soft voice call out for him through the quiet sound of his sobs, followed by slow footsteps walking in his direction. Sam felt a careful hand on his shoulder and when he managed to open his eyes to look up, he could see right into Castiel’s worried gaze. The angel went down to his knees in front of him. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

Sam couldn’t hold back a sarcastic chuckle that immediately turned into another sob as he rested his head against Castiel’s chest. The angel had been gone for a few days, but Sam didn’t have the energy to ask where he went. He shrugged helplessly. “Dean.”

Castiel let out a long sigh, his shoulders shaking slightly before he nodded. “I know, Sam, I know. You cannot imagine how much I miss him.”

“I think I do,” Sam muttered, his forehead still resting against Castiel’s heaving chest. It was a kind of comfort he wouldn’t allow himself, if he wasn’t so utterly drunk and broken.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Castiel assured him, “But you cannot keep doing this. It isn’t healthy.”

Sam shrugged again, unable to reply anything that wouldn’t worry Castiel. When had anyone of them ever been healthy? Maybe Sam wanted it to end and that was why he did all of this. Self-destructive like all Winchesters were.

“C’mon, I’ll get you into bed,” Castiel murmured, patting Sam’s shoulder before helping him up to his feet. The world was still spinning around Sam and for a moment his stomach was roiling painfully, sending a cold shiver down his spin. He sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes to keep himself from throwing up. God, he had to stop this, Castiel was right.

Getting back to Sam’s room turned out to be harder than expected, his legs shaking while his whole body revolted against him as a revenge for all the alcohol. Sam had to stop several times to catch a breath with his arm slung around Castiel for physical support. The angel shouldn’t have to see him like this.

Once they managed to get into Sam’s room, he sat down on his bed, inhaling slowly through his nose while he swallowed down against the thick lump in his throat. It would be a true miracle if he didn’t throw up tonight.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back,” Castiel said with a caring smile, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder. He shoved the trash bin from under the desk towards the bed, just in case, before he left the room.

Sam slowly tried to calm himself, looking up to the spinning ceiling. He shouldn’t let Castiel take care of him. It was selfish and cruel, knowing that Castiel had lost Dean as well. He had been gone for days at a time since Dean left, only checking in once in a while, and Sam was sure he did this because he was still grieving. Maybe it was time for both of them to move on, but that was easier said than done. Dean would always be missing in their lives.

Castiel returned five minutes later with a steaming mug of tea. Sam carefully sat up to take it from him and gave the angel a grateful smile. 

“Thank you, Cas,” he sighed and took a sip. “’m sorry… Sorry you gotta see me like that.”

Castiel shook his head. “It’s fine, Sam. I understand. I am still mourning Dean as well, but I do not want you to hurt yourself.”

Sam nodded, closing his eyes for a second so he wouldn’t start crying again, not in front of Castiel. “Yeah, you right,” he muttered, “I… I jus’ gotta get some sleep.”

“Yes, do that,” Castiel said softly, but Sam could see the sorrow in his blue eyes. He wasn’t doing great himself and still looked after Sam as if that was his responsibility. It shouldn’t be. “I’ll be in the in the library if you need me.”

Sam nodded. Somehow Castiel was able to melt away the numbing ice inside him, but that revealed open wounds Sam didn’t want to think about. Castiel was all he had left in the world. 

“Thanks again,” he murmured, watching the angel give him a smile and slowly close the door behind him as he left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam woke up with a headache so strong that he had to squeeze his eyes shut and breathe through the thudding pain. It was as if little hammers inside his head tried to pulverise his skull, beating against the bone with an unsteady rhythm. He needed a moment to rub his temples before he managed to look over to his alarm clock. 4:32a.m. The perfect time to get up with a giant hangover.

Sam pulled himself out of bed with a groan, well aware that he wouldn’t find another minute of rest now. His sleeping patterns had never been regular, but since Dean had left he didn’t get more than four hours a night. He just had to get used to that.

He didn’t bother to find the bathroom first, heading straight for the kitchen. Unsure if he could eat now, at least he had to get something to drink. Tea maybe, for his headache.

Supporting himself on the bunker’s wall he got to the kitchen, holding a hand to his forehead. The light was already on and Sam didn’t doubt that he had just forgotten to turn it off when he got the whisky last night, but when he entered the room, he found Castiel bent over the kitchen counter, reading a cookbook. Sam had to blink a few times, assuring himself that he wasn’t hallucinating.

“Cas?”

The angel turned his head and sent Sam a smile. He looked tired. “Hello, Sam. I didn’t expect you to be awake already.”

Sam shrugged as he walked over to the angel. “Couldn’t sleep anymore. Got a headache, so I guess I should drink something.”

Castiel nodded, gesturing the hunter to come closer. When Sam stepped towards him, Castiel reached out with his hand and carefully tapped two fingers against his head. A comfortable warmth washed over Sam like the steady stream of a hot shower, waving through his body, and a moment later his headache was gone.

“Thanks,” Sam breathed out with a chuckle, “I feel like you’re my personal guardian angel, Cas.”

Castiel tilted his head with a smile on his lips. “I am glad that you feel this way, Sam. I am trying my best.”

Sam exhaled a sigh. Dean was gone, but knowing that he could always count on Castiel felt like all the support he needed at the moment. “So… You’re reading a recipe book?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes. I assumed you would need breakfast when you wake up. I am not a good cook, but I can follow instructions.”

Sam’s eyes became wide with curiosity as his gaze flickered between the angel and the book. “You want to cook for me?” he asked perplexed. Castiel was his best friend, but he didn’t expect him to pamper him like that. Picking him up from the ground in the dungeon to get him into bed was already enough. “You… really don’t gotta.”

Castiel shook his head slowly and gave Sam an honest smile. “Sit down, Sam. I’ll make some tea and pancakes for you.” He said it softly, but Sam understood that it was more or less meant as an order and that there was no room for discussion. Castiel knew what Sam was going through and he tried to help as much as he could, so Sam wouldn’t deny him that. Somewhere in the back of his head he was aware that the angel was grieving too and needed Sam as much as he needed Castiel, but for now they silently agreed not to talk about it.

Sam sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and quietly watched Castiel mix the pancake batter. He couldn’t imagine being without him and in moments like this Sam suddenly felt at peace, knowing that whatever happened, he still had Castiel. Maybe they couldn’t find a cure for Dean, and Sam would forever feel guilty about that, but he still had the angel with him. If Castiel was gone, Sam doubted he could keep staying alive as easily. And he already had a hard time with that.

Castiel put some of the batter in the sizzling pan and went over to the sink to fill the water boiler. Once he had turned it on, he went into the cupboard and looked over his shoulder to Sam. “What kind of tea would you like?”

Sam shrugged indifferently. “I don’t really care… Peppermint maybe.”

“Peppermint it is, then,” Castiel hummed, picking out the little box with tea bags to place it on the counter before he rushed back to the stove and turned the pancake over. He looked happy, doing something so simply domestic for Sam.

Sam rested his elbows on the kitchen table, waiting for the mountain of pancakes to pile up on the plate next to the stove. “Cas, can I ask you something?”

Castiel turned half around and gave Sam a questioning look. “Of course, Sam.”

“Where have you been the last days?”

Castiel’s gaze suddenly became tired and turned into something sad, as if Sam’s question had reminded him of a painful memory. It probably had done just that. “Sam…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Sam muttered, biting down on his bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s… it’s your privacy, you don’t gotta answer.”

Castiel shook his head and stepped away from the stove to place his hand on Sam’s shoulder. He sighed deeply. “No, Sam,” he murmured, “I don’t want any secrets between us. I’ve been looking to find Dean, but… Whenever I get close to him, he just disappears. It’s impossible to get a hold of him and I think… I should stop this. I should get over it.”

Sam nodded, inhaling as he tried to stifle the sudden sting of pain that bled from a small point in his lungs into his entire chest, making it hard to breathe properly. He knew what Castiel was talking about, that they should let go. Sam should stop trying to find a cure and Castiel had to stop disappearing to search for Dean. They had to move on, but everything inside him struggled against that.

“Cas…” Sam sighed, “I’m sorry. I know this is hard for both of us, not just for me.”

Castiel turned back to the stove so the pancake wouldn’t burn, but Sam missed the comfort of his touch as soon as the angel took his hand away from his shoulder. Sam needed someone to be close to right now. 

“It’s fine, Sam,” Castiel assured him softly, but the exhausted undertone in his voice was undeniable. “I suppose we should have a holiday.”

Sam raised an eyebrow and rested his hand on the leg of his pants while tapping the table with the other. “Holiday? What do you mean? We’re hunters, we don’t do vacation.”

“We should,” Castiel said as he placed the plate of pancakes in front of Sam, handing him the cutlery before he went to get the tea.

“I don’t know, Cas…” Sam muttered, but if he tried to be honest for a moment, he had to get out of the bunker and fill his head with something that was neither old books nor booze. He hadn’t left this place in over a week, meaning that the last time he had seen the sun was when he had to get food. He wasn’t working on any cases either, too occupied with the need to find a cure for his brother, but the reality was that Sam was overworked and hadn’t made any progress, and maybe never would. There was no cure for a Knight of Hell.

“That cinnamon?” Sam asked as he began to eat. The pancakes tasted surprisingly good.

Castiel sat down next to Sam and gave him his mug of peppermint tea, nodding with a soft smile that made the wrinkles around his blue eyes deeper. “Yes, it is. The recipe suggested that it would give them a more unique taste.”

 

“It does,” Sam said as he poured syrup on his pancake mountain. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it. That you helped me yesterday, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I feel the same for you, Sam,” Castiel sighed, “To be honest, I am not doing well. And I need you.”

Sam gave the angel a small smile and nodded. He wanted to reach out to hold Castiel’s hand, have some touch to comfort him, but maybe he shouldn’t cross that line. “I think you’re right. We could use a vacation. I can’t keep staying in the library til I pass out.”

“You really shouldn’t,” Castiel replied, softly returning the smile. “We should find a place where we can properly relax.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam rested his head against the window of Castiel’s Lincoln Continental, peering over to the angel who was sitting behind the steering wheel. They could have taken Dean’s Impala instead, since the demon version of him had just carelessly left it in the bunker’s garage, but neither of them had the heart to actually drive that car. They still needed time. 

They had been on the road for a few hours now, but their destination wasn’t far away anymore. A little secluded cabin in the mountains that used to be one of Bobby’s hunter hideouts, but hadn’t been used in years. It was probably quite dusty by now, but it should be nice for a vacation if they cleaned up. Castiel had already volunteered to do so, giving Sam the feeling that the angel was looking for distraction. Of course he was. Sam had to remind himself that Castiel was grieving as well, if not more than him. Dean had always been more than just a friend to Castiel and Sam had known that for a long time. The way they had talked and looked at each other, how they got worried if the other wasn’t around… Sam had felt like that was a relationship he shouldn’t interrupt by being the third wheel between them, no matter what his own feelings were. It hadn’t been his place.

Things were different now though. Dean wasn’t with them anymore and as much as Sam’s heart clenched when he thought about that fact, how his eyes watered and he had to blink away the tears, that could only mean pain for Castiel as well. He must have loved Dean for a long time, but now he was gone. A demon. Nothing of his soul left as it had been before.

Sam felt guilty when he looked through his eyelashes to catch a glimpse of the angel, how he calmly sat on the driver’s seat with his hands wrapped securely around the steering wheel, focusing on the road. There was this tiny voice inside Sam’s head, one that he didn’t want to admit that it was part of him, which told him that now with Dean gone Castiel was all his. 

His heart throbbed painfully inside his chest, judging him for even having those thoughts, but Sam had felt like an outsider to Dean and Castiel’s relationship for so long. They had shared a profound bond, one that he couldn’t understand. Dean and him had never been the most functional team, but their brotherly love for each other had been real and they always came out of bad situations together. They were the centers of each other’s universes. That shifted once Castiel came into their lives, not that it bothered Sam. He loved that angel, too. Castiel was his best friend and Sam would die for him without a second thought, but knowing that Dean and Castiel had something he wasn’t part of… It was a hard feeling. Maybe because he always wanted to have something like that with Castiel himself.

Now that was possible and Sam felt awful. Dean was gone and technically Castiel was all his. It was an ugly feeling. He felt possessive over the angel, wanting him only for himself, clinging to him as the last person he had in this cold world. Sam would fight tooth and nail just to keep Castiel by his side, even if a day came when the angel didn’t want that anymore.

Sam swallowed. He should never think about Castiel this way, but he couldn’t deny that he had those instinctive needs, that deep inside him he wanted the angel for himself. Maybe just as his friend, maybe more. Sam wasn’t sure about that. The first and last time he had ever done anything with another man had been with Brady in freshman year before Jessica, but that had been so many years ago. The feelings he had for Castiel were different than the youthful heat he had felt while experimenting with his college friend, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want the angel. He clearly did, but he wasn’t sure yet what that meant for them.

Sam looked up when the road ended by the forest, leading into a poorly maintained path that probably wasn’t frequented more than once a month by some hikers. Castiel parked the Lincoln right where it led into the woods. 

“Do you want to walk the rest of the way, Sam?” he asked with a careful gaze in Sam’s direction. They hadn’t talked a lot during the ride and Sam assumed that the angel was still worried about him.

Sam nodded. “I don’t think your car is made for that road,” he chuckled dryly while he unbuckled his seatbelt, “The cabin’s fifteen minutes from here, max.”

Together they left the car, took their bags with clothing and food for at least a week and walked along the forest path in silence. The cool mountain air filled Sam’s lungs when he inhaled slowly, being much more at ease between the trees of the forest where he could smell the scent of fresh soil and the plants that grew everywhere as if the ground was made of fertiliser. When he looked over to Castiel, Sam understood that the angel felt similar. He seemed to belong into nature, somewhere that wasn’t so heavily touched by the wear of civilisation. Sam realised that he couldn’t fully comprehend that Castiel was more than just his vessel, more than human.

Getting to the cabin wasn’t all that easy, since the actual path didn’t lead there and they had to walk further into the woods to find it, but Sam had been here before once or twice so he knew where to go. Castiel looked around with curious blue eyes, pointing out beautiful plants and insects that Sam wouldn’t even notice on his own. It was good not to be alone.

Eventually the forest thinned out, making way for a tiny lake a few hundred feet away, a flat, shiny surface only disturbed by the few gushes of wind that blew over it, ruffling the water like Sam’s unruly hair when he pushed his hand through it. Just next to the water was the cabin they were looking for, waiting for them patiently as if it hadn’t been years since anyone had used it the last time. The door was locked when they got to it, but Sam knew where the spare key was hidden, and when they stepped inside, it was just as dusty as they expected it to be. So they began cleaning.

Sam had to admit that the distraction was a welcome change of pace and as he swept the wooden floor of the cabin, he rarely thought about Dean at all. The person that currently occupied his mind was Castiel, and once in a while Sam looked over to his friend and gave him a smile. They didn’t talk a lot, but that was fine.

In the evening Castiel cooked dinner for them over the gas stove and Sam sat on the old couch in the living room, looking up from his book to watch the angel unnoticed. He seemed peaceful, but Sam would have liked to know what was going on in his head. Talking about it wasn’t an option Sam wanted to take right now, but maybe in the days to come if he felt better eventually.


End file.
